


5 Times Nikolai Lantsov Loved Alina Starkov and the One Time He Did Not

by MaryWollstonecrafty



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M, Nikolai Feels, precious bb prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:37:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3466247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryWollstonecrafty/pseuds/MaryWollstonecrafty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nikolai Lantsov does not love by halves</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times Nikolai Lantsov Loved Alina Starkov and the One Time He Did Not

**Author's Note:**

> My Nikolai Feels are out of control. Here is the product of that. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I.   He loved her on the boat, that great hulking ship barreling its way down The Bone Road. The moment The Darkling put his knife to her was the first time he’d felt true fear in a long time. It was the first time he’d felt true _anything_ in a long time. It took effort to turn his original cry of panic into bravado, to remind The Darkling that he was a guest on his ship. It took effort to pretend that he had no interest in the small ghost of a girl haunting his ship. He was lucky, though. Nikolai Lantsov was an expert on pretending not to care. Those who care the most always are. The Darkling put his knife against the pale of her arm and Nikolai felt rage boil up in him, the likes of which he had never felt before. Don’t hurt her. Don’t _touch_ her. His fingertips itched to brush back the lock of dark hair that had fallen across her eyes during the confrontation. He loved the way her cheeks turned red as she watched the ice floes over the railing of the deck. He loved her delicate hands and the tangled mass of her hair. But he loved her strength best. He loved her most when she refused to be afraid. I will save her, he thought, even if it costs me everything that I am.

II.  He loved her in the carriage, her bright eyes fuming after their kiss. He loved her tangled lashes, and flushed cheeks, and lips swollen slightly from the moment he took her in his arms and did what he had been dying to do since the first moment he saw her. He loved her when she yelled at him. He loved her when he realized that meant she cared. He loved her when in her brilliant rage, he realized what a magnificent queen she would be. He loved her when he realized he wanted to kiss her again, and that this, somehow, mattered more.

III.  He loved her when he looked into her hazel eyes, saucer-shaped and sad and whispered “I won’t kiss you. Not yet. Not until you’re thinking of me instead of trying to forget him”. He meant what he said. He might have been a second son but he played second fiddle to no one. He rose to his loafered feet and silently begged for her to cry out, to stop him, to rise and fall into his arms. “I’m all yours Nikolai” he imagined her saying. “I will be your queen and your wife and your partner in all things”. He imagined her crushing her lips to his, his arms snaking down her back and lifting her off of her feet in the passion of the kiss. He imagined pinning her against the wall in a shadowy corner and letting his hands explore every curve of her body. The body he studied every single day. He knew how it moved, but he did not know how it felt. It killed him. He loved her even when she did not rise. He loved her when she did not chase him down and laugh and call him a fool in her special Alina way. He loved her when he went to his chambers that night and took his cock in his own hands and thought of her until he came with a strangled cry alone in his room. He loved her when she loved someone else. But even though he loved her, he would not beg, he would not attempt to persuade her. If Nikolai Lantsov had one thing, it was his pride.

IV.  He loved her when he was a monster. When the only thing his broken brain could think was “save me, save me”. He loved her as his talons gripped the rock and he slid the emerald over her delicate finger and she laughed her broken desperate laugh. He loved her when a single “choose me” slipped through the fog of his thoughts.

V.  He loved her when she came to see him after the battle, her white hair cascading over her shoulders, her fingers still twitching to call the light that wouldn’t come. He loved her because she had saved them all. He loved her because she saved him, in all the ways a person can be saved. He loves her when he asks, one last time, for her to be his queen. He knows what her answer will be, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still sting to hear her say it. He wants her to know that he wants her still, even now that her power is gone. He wants her to know that he never loved the Sun Summoner. Not like he loves Alina Starkov. He loves her because she understands all the darkest, crumpled up, ruined parts of him. He loves her because she is the only person he’s ever really wanted. He finds a prince does not get used to wanting.

VI.  He does not love her on her wedding day. He does not love her as he sneaks in the back of the small white chapel, his face obscured by a scruffy beard, dressed in peasants’ clothing. Misha sees him, his small face lights up as his eyes meet Nikolai’s, but Nikolai silences him with a finger drawn up to his lips and a wink. Alina and Mal are too full of each other to notice anyone else. He does not love her as she swears to always remain at Mal’s side. To love him until death parts them. To remain his partner in all things. He does not love her as she kisses him and the lightening strike of pain rips through his heart one last time. He does not love her as he slips out of the chapel unseen. He is king of Ravka now, and that is more important than being a heart broken boy. He does not love her because he cannot love her. Not anymore.


End file.
